


The One Where Phil Makes Gumbo

by earthseed_fic



Series: Clint and and Phil In Love [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, M/M, they are bookstore employees or something in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseed_fic/pseuds/earthseed_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint hasn't been to work for three days. Phil makes him gumbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Phil Makes Gumbo

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post on tumblr: http://adamantsteve.tumblr.com/post/99497716427/did-you-think-i-wouldnt-find-out-i-mean
> 
> I don't know if I did the prompt justice, but I do so love the idea of Phil breaking into Clint's place to make him food.

"Are you _cooking_?” Clint asked.

Phil looked over his shoulder for a moment and then back to the butter and flour he was stirring to make a roux. “I figured you were probably hungry,” he replied.

"So you thought you would come over here and make—" Clint was behind him now, close enough that Phil could feel the heat from his body. He was peering over Phil’s shoulder. "What are you making?”

"Gumbo." Phil tried to concentrate on not burning his roux, on the fact that his friend had been locked in his apartment for three days for reasons unknown, on the fact that getting a hard-on right now would be very embarrassing and even more inappropriate. He was here to help, not pine. But that one quick glance over his shoulder was burned into his brain— Clint in low slung, well-worn pajama bottoms, shirtless so that the tattoo on his bicep and his treasure trail were on full display, topped by a ridiculously sexy case of bed head. He chanced another glance and found Clint staring intently.

"It smells delicious," he said finally.

"It won’t take long once I put the sausage in. The rice is already done. You can get a shower and eat when you’re done." Clint hadn’t moved. Phil was trying really hard not lean into him or just turn around and give him the hug he so obviously needed.

"Then you’ll tell me why you broke in to my place to make me food?"

"I think that part’s fairly obvious. You’re kind of a mess." That got him a ghost of Clint’s usual grin. He bumped Clint with his hip. "Shower. I’ll be here when you get out." 

~*~*~*~*~*~

While Clint showered Phil finished the gumbo, adding the vegetables and water and finally the sausage. He let it simmer and put rolls in the oven to warm and then set the table. While shopping for ingredients he’d debated whether or not just showing up at Clint’s place was a good idea. Sure, they were friends and he’d been inside Clint’s apartment often enough. But volunteering his services as nursemaid (even though Phil still didn’t know what had sent Clint into hiding) and cooking an entire meal in his kitchen seemed a bit presumptuous. Now that he was here, though, and could see how tired and defeated Clint looked (and still really sexy, his traitorous brain added), he was glad he came. And, if he allowed himself to fantasize, just a little, about having this kind of cozy night in with Clint for real—well, there was no harm in that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Clint was halfway through his second bowl and Phil had given up on hiding how pleased he was that Clint liked his food. "Save room for dessert," he said.

"There’s more food?" Clint’s tone was still incredulous, but he’d perked up some and was looking around for the dessert. "What’d you make?"

"A cheesecake. I made it yesterday." He took a deep breath. "I’ll trade you a slice."

"Trade? For what?"

"Tell me why you’re hiding out here? Why you haven’t been in to work for three days?"

"Is Fury mad?"

"No more than usual. But we are all worried."

Clint put his spoon down and pushed his bowl away. “That’s extortion, Coulson. Or bribery. Or something.” There was no heat in his words. He looked so tired.

"I’d still like to know." He really did. He wanted to help. He wanted to fix whatever was wrong. He wanted to smooth way the frown lines creasing his forehead. He wanted to bring back the careless grin Clint wore most of the time. And this insistent need to take care of Clint was a feeling he was going to have to examine at another time.

"My brother," Clint started. "Barney." He scrubbed both hands through his hair and tried again. "Barney came to see me this weekend."

"That’s not good?"

"It never is. I always forget that." He shrugged. "I know that he just wants me to be okay. But his idea of okay and mine are completely different now. It’s just hard." He pulled at his hair again in frustration and Phil couldn’t help himself. He reached out and squeezed Clint’s free hand. "It’s just hard."

"I don’t know what I can do to help," Phil said quietly, still holding Clint’s hand. "But I’m here. If you need anything."

Another ghost of a smile. “If I need another pot of gumbo?” 

"I’m your man." Phil returned his smile.

"An excellent cook. A gorgeous smile. And, apparently, the ability to break into someone’s apartment. You are going to make some girl a lucky woman."

"Guy," Phil said, suddenly very aware that Clint was now participating in the hand holding. "I’m going to make some guy lucky."

"Yeah?" Finally, a real smile.

”Yeah, though it does seem awfully vain to say it.”

A real laugh. “I think you’ve earned some vanity on this one.” They grinned like idiots for a few moments. Then, “Think we can have that cheesecake now?”


End file.
